


the birds and the bees aren't half as entertaining (as our porn)

by orphan_account



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-29
Updated: 2010-09-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 07:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there's video. it's very embarrassing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the birds and the bees aren't half as entertaining (as our porn)

Sundays and Wednesdays (and sometimes Saturdays) are 'phone days'. There used to be a time when Adam and Stephen called each other every day or so, but usually, it's a good idea to stop a bad habit before it destroys the relationship. After a while, they found out that breaks were a good thing. So, the new rules was: no calling outside of phone days unless there was something really urgent or hilarious or life-changing.

It's Saturday. The week was long, but ultimately rewarding, and Stephen would never admit it, but usually, it's one of his favourite times of the week to lie on his bed on Saturday evenings, play computer games or study, and wait with a light feeling of anticipation because he doesn't know if Adam'll call or not.

Today, he anticipates and dreads the call at the same time.

Adam does call, of course. In all honesty, Stephen is good enough at statistics to see the common pattern emerge: the longer they go without seeing each other, the more often Adam finds things that are urgent or hilarious or life-changing that he _absolutely_ has to share, _right now_ , and not only on Saturdays (but on those, too).

"Stepheeeeen," Adam moans into the receiver when Stephen picks up the call. "Talk dirty to me."

Stephen clears his throat and, imitating his dad's deep voice, says, "One second, son, I think he's upstairs in his room."

For a moment, there's complete and utter silence - then Adam dissolves in cackles. "You are _so_ mean," he laughs. "You should have left out the 'son', though, your dad never calls me that."

"You're right," Stephen grins. His dad uses the word for him all the time, though, so it's hard to forget the habit.

"How's things, dude?" Adam asks when they've calmed down. "What are you up to tonight? Clubs and parties? Got a hot date waiting for you?"

"Is that what _you_ 're up to?" Stephen asks with a small smile. "Because I feel like I should warn you, Yu-Na'll cut you loose so fast, you won't know what hit you."

"Have you guys been gossiping behind my back again? I feel hurt and betrayed that my best friends would do this! Have you been attempting to steal her from me? Is that what this is? Tempting her over to the dark side with your heterosexual vices - of which, if I remember correctly, you have none?"

"Well, then you have nothing to worry about, do you?" Stephen laughs. There's a slight lull in conversation, then Stephen turns over onto his back, lets his book fall shut, and closes his eyes. "Are you still up for that visit next week?"

Adam groans. "Do I sense a raincheck? Because I booked the flight, baby, and if it's just Priscilla telling you to suck it up and train harder -"

"No, no, it's not that. It's - I know you wanted to see my new place in Delaware and all, but can you change your flight destination to Boston still?"

"Do you need to go home next weekend? Did something happen?"

"... you could say that."

"Do I get to know what happened, exactly, or are you going to veil yourself in a cloak of mystery and leave me to guess for the next week?"

Stephen squeezes his eyes shut and rubs over the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He really didn't want to say this over the phone. "You might be better off not knowing any details," he tries.

"But you want me to come to Boston. Where - if I understand you right - you are right now?"

"I am."

"Okay, seriously, just spit it out. You know I hate people being all secretive about things. What's going on?"

"Fine. Just - let's not fight about this. Promise me."

Adam makes an impatient noise.

"Do you remember - psh, of course you remember. That, uh. That video. We made." Stephen can feel the flush rise in his cheeks involuntarily just thinking about it, about his mom, and downstairs.

This time, the noise Adam makes is less impatient and more strangled. "Don't tell me," he starts.

"I told you you didn't want to know."

"How the _fuck_ \- it's not on the internet, is it?"

Stephen takes a deep breath, stomach twisting. "God, no. Though that might be less embarrassing. But no, no, just. Uh. My mom."

"Fuuuuck," Adam whispers. "How the fuck did she find it?"

"You forgot your goddamn usb stick in my room, and she cleaned up the house last week like she always does at this time of the year."

Adam snorts. It sounds like he's snickering, _laughing_ , the asshole, and Stephen hisses. "Stop it, christ, seriously, do you want me to send your mom a porn video of us as a surprise email?"

Adam sobers up real fast. "You're shitting me, she _watched_ it?"

"No! She just watched the first few seconds, or at least, I _hope_ she turned it off. No, I know she did. Anything else would traumatize me for _life_ , so don't even suggest it."

"And she ordered you home right away?" Adam's laughing again.

Stephen hums. "You know, she gave me another order," he says, and this time, he's a little bit meaner about it, because if Adam doesn't want to take Stephen's pain seriously, he totally deserves this.

"What's that?" Adam asks, clueless as ever.

"You're coming to Boston next weekend, dumbass, remember?" Stephen snipes. "Guess she wants to meet the upstanding young man who's fucking her son."

 

~*~

 

Adam is not sure whether to be thankful or annoyed when Stephen opens the door for him on third bell and quickly announces that his parents are out at work, and that next time, he should call when he's arriving late. Adam's plane didn't take off for three hours because of some machine error, and it's going on three pm now, which is so not his fault.

He would be annoyed about the whole thing where Stephen's parents aren't home, because his nerves have been frayed for a _week_ now, and waiting even longer will just prolong his torture, but right this moment, he's mostly just feeling thankful that he'll have some time to get used to being here without blurting the whole speech he's planned from the doorstep.

"I made cupcakes," Stephen tells him when Adam closes the door behind himself and sniffs the air.

"I can tell," Adam smiles. "Raspberry-vanilla?"

"Cherry-vanilla," Stephen corrects and pushes him back against the door. He lets his fingers wander under Adam's t-shirt, touching his waist, while he kisses him. Their naked calves brush, and Adam thinks that shorts have something going for them, especially when it comes to feeling your boyfriend's dick harden against your own through the thin material.

He lets himself be kissed for about a minute before he pulls out of Stephen's grip and starts taking off his shoes. He puts down his backpack - he won't be here for long, just two nights, and he can always borrow Stephen's shirts - and bites his lip.

"So," he starts, unsure how to broach the topic. "Is there a plan, like. How are you planning to go about this... thing?"

Stephen flattens his hair with his palm, looking sheepish. "Be glad this is happening in the comfort of the house, man, they wanted to go out to _dinner_. Can you imagine the humiliation? 'Oh, Adam, isn't the lasagna delicious, and oh, yes, tell us more about how you enjoy getting your ass fucked...'. Hmmmm. Fun."

Adam hits his shoulder. "Shut up, they would never say that."

"Dude. You've met my dad, right?" Stephen rubs the sore spot. "Also, I did not agree to physical assault back when I graciously allowed you to become my boyfriend."

"Allowed, my ass," Adam grins. "Who was the one begging on his knees -?"

"Who was the one begging for dick a minute after that?"

Adam lifts his chin. "Shut up, that was different. Now show me the cupcakes, slaveboy. I'm hungry and in need of feeding up."

Stephen sticks out his tongue, but he does allow Adam to take his hand, which is a fairly big deal. It's not always allowed. In the kitchen, a whole stack of cupcakes is sitting in the middle of the pristinely clean, white table, not a crumb in sight. Stephen knows how to clean up after himself. Unless, apparently, it involves porn of some form. Though some could say, Adam admits, that it's not quite Stephen's fault as much as it is his own. He's lucky that Stephen's above pointing fingers, because he's pretty sure if their roles were reversed, he would be assigning blame right about now.

Then again, if his own mom found a video of them having sex, he would be permanently moving in with Stephen now, to cover for all the times he isn't up in Toronto, so there's that.

"When's the inquisition taking place, then?" he asks and hops onto the counter at his back to let his feet dangle. He holds out his hand for a cupcake.

"Parents have a conference, so sometime in the evening, I guess." Stephen hands him one, but he has a disapproving frown on his face. "Dude, you know how much my mom hates it when you sit there."

"Your mom's not here," Adam grins and fellates the frosting with skilled movements of his tongue. Then he spreads his legs and leans back against the cabinet at his back, grin growing wider. "What she doesn't know..."

"She knows," Stephen mumbles, but he does step into the V formed by Adam's thighs and places his hands on Adam's knees, splaying his fingers across his skin. "She knows _everything_ , she's a horrible clearvoyant witch that way -"

"It would be good if you could shut up about your mom now," Adam laughs against his lips, and tastes more frosting, and pieces of chocolate when their tongues meet.

They kiss slow and languid at first, with Adam biting off cupcake now and then, sucking cherries into his mouth and sharing them with Stephen, but then Stephen's hands find their way up and up till they reach the bulge of Adam's shorts, and one vanishes to the small of his back while he palms Adam's dick, rubbing through the fabric, and Adam lets the last piece of the cupcake drop and concentrates on the sex, the way his stomach flips every time Stephen squeezes tighter, moves his hand in a way that promises _better_ , and _more_.

Adam moans. He slides forward, closing his legs around Stephen's hips and rocks up into the friction, and he's getting close, really close, because it's been a while, and it feels really good to be back together like this, his hands scrambling to find hold to get more stability. He finds the handle of a cabinet and holds on while they hump, kissing harder, pushing his tongue into Stephen's mouth -

\- and thumps his head _hard_ against the edge of the cabinet at his back when he sees a movement from the corners of his half-closed eyes, pulling back with a sound of horror and pain.

Stephen's hand vanishes from his dick immediately as he whirls around, and from what Adam sees, his face is suddenly grey-ish pale before it turns the brightest red Adam has ever seen.

"Mom," he croaks.

"Oh god," Adam groans, burying his face in Stephen's back, neatly hiding behind him, because seriously.

"Son," Stephen's dad greets them cheerily, walking into the kitchen, holding up two big, brown bags. "We thought we'd bring Chinese take-away, since you didn't want to go out to dinner tonight. Hi, Adam dear."

Adam giggles and raises his hand to wave back, but doesn't show his face just yet.

 

~*~

 

"The thing is. Well." Stephen's mom looks concerned.

Lunch/dinner went surprisingly well, Adam thinks, especially considering that they had to apologize and take off for a good ten minutes to catch a fucking break before they were feeling remotely equipped enough to return to the kitchen to _eat Chinese fucking food_. There was a lot of figure skating talk, and asking about coaches and Yu-Na and Christina and his brothers and sisters, inquiries about his college-plans - nothing indicating any difference from any other time Adam's visited their home in the past.

Until this, now, of course. Adam feels like there should be seminars for this, instead of press-training. 'How to admit to your boyfriend's mom that you're sleeping with her son, the PG version'. Maybe he should start teaching it. After this, he feels, he should have more than enough experience.

"We just never suspected that there might be more going on, you see?" she says. "We thought -"

"Speak for yourself, lover," her husband interrupts, giving her a lopsided grin. "I told you it was a sure bet." He winks at Adam. "Stephen's always had good taste."

Stephen groans and buries his flaming face in his hands. "Dad!"

Adam can relate. He has no idea where to hide or _how to make this stop_. He would love to take this with humor, and he's sure at some point, maybe in oh, fifty years or so, all this will be hilariously funny, but right now, it's _humiliating and really, really horrible_.

"Look," Stephen starts. His voice sounds strangled and weak and Adam's never heard him like this before. Then again, he didn't think he himself could ever feel this flustered, and here he is, avoiding looking Stephen's parents in the eye, least they ask _anything at all about the thing where they were having sex on their kitchen counter_. Oh _god_. The kitchen counter. What were they _thinking_?

"Look, Adam and I, ah." Stephen wildly grasps for Adam's hand and Adam wonders shortly when Stephen grew claws because that _hurts_. "We've been dating for a while now. This is all. Can we please go now?"

" _Please_ ," Adam mouths at his feet. He had a whole speech for this, but that was before the whole thing became _real_.

Stephen's dad leans back into the couch, looking relaxed and like he's about to go read the newspaper or make some freakin' coffee or something. He seems to be enjoying this far too much. Stephen's mom, though, she leans forward a little, and the concern's not vanishing off her face. "But, Stevie, because of that video -"

"No. No, no, we're not talking about that anymore. I heard you the first time."

"But maybe Adam needs to hear -?"

"Adam doesn't need to hear," Adam interrupts, and winces, because _ow_ , rude, but he doesn't want to hear, really, really doesn't. He clears his throat. "I mean. Thanks, Mrs. Carriere, but that was -

"- stupid -"

"- stupid, exactly, and it was just."

"Yes. And that's about as much as we ever want to mention that again. _Ever_." Stephen points at his dad. "Stop laughing."

Stephen's dad is snickering. Adam closes his eyes and wishes to die.

"Well, if you boys are sure," Stephen's mom says, leaning back, and the creases finally go away. She glances at their joint hands and Adam really wants Stephen to let go, now, except Stephen only squeezes harder, and fuck that hurts. "Though you know that if you have any questions or need any help with -"

"Mom!" Stephen jumps to his feet, pulling Adam with him. "We're going to go up to my room now. And play solitaire for the rest of the evening."

"Can I have some of those cupcakes?" Stephen's dad asks, like they didn't just have the world's most embarrassing talk _ever_ , and Adam is sort of glad his mom got as far as "when two people love each other very much" before he told her he wanted books, and also, it would be good if they had stuff about two boys, if that was possible. Suddenly, he very much appreciates how uncomplicated she's always been about stuff.

 

~*~

 

Up in Stephen's room, they sit down next to each other on Stephen's bed and stare at the ceiling for a while, before Stephen says, "So."

Adam coughs, and giggles again, more out of nerves than anything else. "Solitaire, huh?" he quips.

"Yeah..." Stephen mumbles. "We are so not having sex tonight."

"They'll think we're doing it anyway," Adam snorts.

"Don't make it worse."

"Okay, okay. Let's just... move on. Move on and never think about that again. _Jesus_."

Stephen starts laughing. It's not all that funny, but what can you do.

 

~*~

 

The next day, they wait until Stephen's parents are good and gone (for real this time), before they lock the door to his room (twice, just in case, and rattle the door, to make absolutely sure); then they boot up the computer.

"Just once?" Adam asked, this morning just after waking up, eyes huge and pleading. "Before we wipe it all and delete it?"

Stephen still doesn't think it's a good idea. He cannot remember how they could have been stupid enough to make a video of themselves having sex (it must have been Adam's fault, really, there's no other explanation), never mind _why_ they _would_ , he's not even all that much into that sort of stuff -

Okay, who is he kidding. He gets turned on the moment they start the video, and the screen pops up, a film of their mouths pressed together, Adam moving rhythmically on top of him while they kiss. They keep parting their lips, deepening the kiss, and there's pink slither of Adam's tongue as it slips into Stephen's mouth. Stephen's fingers are buried in Adam's hair, tugging, and every pull at a strand makes Adam shiver, moan louder.

It's the sounds, really, that do Stephen in, because Adam can never keep his fucking mouth shut, not even when he's sucking dick. If anything, it gets worse then.

They get as far as Stephen draping over Adam's back, slowly pushing into his body, before Adam's in Stephen's lap, grinding, and then they're not looking at the screen anymore, their eyes on each other as they move together. There are no interruptions this time.

They do delete the video, though. All the copies they have.  
Hopefully.

 

~*~  
The End ;)


End file.
